


Back at the graveyard

by AvatarQuake



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Halloween, One Year Later, and they sort of find an old friend, more like their friend finds them, the brothers go searching for ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 13:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13100895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvatarQuake/pseuds/AvatarQuake
Summary: A year later, they visit that old cemetery once more.





	Back at the graveyard

**Author's Note:**

> Had been meaning to post this ages ago, but got sidetracked.

A year after that Halloween found Wirt and Greg back at the cemetery.

“What are we doing here, Wirt?” Greg asked.

“...Searching...” his older brother said, saddly.

“For what? We already have a frog.”

“Not for frogs, Greg.”

“Then...”

“You could say...for ghosts.” Wirt looked away.

“Ooooh.”

They went up and down the graveyard, reading the names, until they found Quincy Endicott's. His rival, Margueritte Grey, was right next to him.

They never learnt the Woodsman's name, but Wirt was sure the man was here somewhere, too. With his daughter. He spotted Mrs Langtree's name on one. He was sure everyone they met in the Unknown, was in the Eternal Garden. Greg looked saddly at the two tombstones.

“Hey there, Unky, Auntie.” he said.

A large one caught Wirt's attention in the far back. He moved slowly towards it, scared, knowing what he will read already.

The stone bore only one name on it; _Girst_.

“Girst. That sounds familiar.” Greg said.

“The woodsman had repurpossed the old Girst mill to make oil for the Beast's lantern.” Wirt reminded him.

“Oh, you're right.”

Wirt nodded once, looking at the names listed.

There, half-way through, her name greeted him; _Beatrice_. He knelt before it and laid a hand over her name.

“Damn it.” he sniffed.

“It's all right, bother o' mine.” Greg patted his back, softly. “I'm sure she watches over us.”

“I don't want her to watch over us, Greg. I want her to be here with us. I miss her.”

“Me, too.” the little boy said.

“I-I-I-I knew something was off with how some people dressed. I only realised it after we had been back for months. How Beatrice said people hid change in their clothes' lining, how _she_ did it. No one does that anymore.” Wirt was saying, through silent sobs.

“Why didn't you say anything earlier?”

“How do you say something like this, Greg, when you want it to be wrong?”

“What would she say if she saw you now?”

“She'd tell me to stop being such a baby. Or a wuss. I am not sure.” he said. “And then call me a pushover for doing as told.” he wiped his face. “And then she'd sit on my shoulder and snuggle, pretending she was tired.”

“But she wasn't a bird when we left, you said.”

“No, you are right. She'd shove me a little and then hold on my arm, saying I was in danger of tripping over my feet.” he smiled through his tears.

Greg nodded and sat beside him.

“Hello, Beatrice. Me and Wirt miss you.” he said quietly. “I hope you didn't turn into a bluebird again while we were gone. Or anything other, for that matter. Wirt told me about your family. I hope they are doing well, too. Can you thank them for me, for looking after Wirt?”

“Tell them I found my brother.” Wirt interjected. “But...I guess you must have.”

“He's eating all his dirt.” Gregg said, smiling. “And I do, too!”

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Wirt said quietly. “Would you mind if we came back tomorrow? You heard me play the bassoun. I was wondering if you'd like to hear me play the clarinet.”

“You should, Beatrice. He's really good. And your family can come listen, too.”

Suddenly, a bluebird came to sit on the Girst family's tombstone.

The two brothers looked at each other and smiled.

“Hello, Beatrice.” Wirt said softly, slowly reaching for the little bluebird.

It didn't fly away, but let Wirt softly run his finger on its feathers once before hopping on his shoulder.

“We missed you, too.” he sighed.

“Are you coming with us, Beatrice?” Greg aske, scitedly. “Can you stay?”

The little bird let a sad chirp.

“Hm...that's ok, I guess. So long as you know where to find us.” the young boy smiled.

“Yeah. You are always welcome to come and see us, whenever you want, whatever the hour.” Wirt said with a smile.

“How about you stay a little now? Hear brother o' mine play some clarinet? How does that sound?”

The bluebird made itself comfortable on Wirt's shoulder.

Wirt chuckled.

“I guess that answers that.” he said.

 


End file.
